


An Angel and His Reaper

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Discworld - Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This isn't what happened the last time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Angel and His Reaper

The vessel’s body is lain on the ground, each arm outstretched above the burnt shadow of a wing.

“This isn’t what happened the last time,” Castiel observes.

She nods, but not to agree. “It wasn’t your time the last time.”

Castiel looks at her dubiously. He means for it to be a dubious look; he’s had many opportunities to practice it lately. “I’m reasonably sure that angels of the Lord don’t need to be collected by a Reaper.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, and suddenly she is taller, mightier. “I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I AM _THE_ REAPER, AND I HAVE COME FOR YOU. BESIDES—” she glances at an elaborate ivory-white hourglass in her hand, “—THIS SAYS THAT YOU’RE NOT COMPLETELY AN ANGEL ANYMORE.”

“It does not say that,” Castiel says petulantly.

She obligingly shows him the hourglass, in which a small layer of sand at the top is a darker, more earthy colour than the fine white mound below it.

Castiel shifts close to read the elaborate calligraphy, and makes a soft, embarrassed noise. “Oh.” He looks up at The Reaper — something in his head supplies him with the name _Susan_, of all possibilities — and for the first time in a while, he feels a surge of hope. “Is my Father waiting on the other side?”

“I KNOW MINE IS, BUT I DON’T KNOW ABOUT YOURS,” she admits. Her cloak shifts when she returns the hourglass to its place, and then a gloved hand is being offered to him. “WE CAN GO FIND OUT.”


End file.
